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Poetry: His chair

In our little, sweet cottage upon Christmas Day,
We crammed four extra folks who were coming to stay,
Aunty Tess, Uncle Mark and my Granddad with him,
my young sister Rosie, myself and Old Jim.

We'd eaten up full and the kitchen was clear,
So beneath twinkling lights we talked over the year
and the memories we gained with the friendships we made,
while we clapped to the songs that the radio played.

As the evening drew in the sun sank through the trees,
On went the TV and I fell to my knees,
As in our little cottage there's one two piece suite;
a three person sofa and Old Jims' comfy seat.

Old Jim has an armchair with the fire on the right,
on the left is the Christmas tree shimmering with light,
Curled up in the middle is my old Labrador,
thats his chair, not theirs, thats why I'm on the floor!

The others arranged themselves, cramped on the other,
laughing at Jim and at Old Jims' old mother,
"I can't help it, hes special!" I said as he licked me,
and smiled in that way, when they know they've been cheeky.

"I suppose it is Christmas, but you're crazy!" Mark cried,
But i sat on a cushion; tree and dog on each side.
"My boy should be happy! Besides I don't mind!
Merry Christmas to all, both to man and dogkind!"

Learn more about this author, Sarah Downham.
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Below are the top articles rated and ranked by Helium members on:

Poetry: His chair

  • 1 of 82

    by Sarah Downham

    In our little, sweet cottage upon Christmas Day,
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    by Jane Allyson

    When I sit here, warm and cozy in your favorite leather chair.
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Poetry: His chair

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